Things That Go Bump
by Ann Valentine
Summary: AU. When Alex joins Things That Go Bump Investigations, he gets more than he bargained for. SLASH! FINALLY FINISHED! Deleted Scenes added 81502!
1. Welcome to the Neighborhood

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Things That Go Bump  
**Welcome to the Neighborhood**   
  
The building was small and unimpressive. It blended in so well with the rest of the neighborhood that Alex had driven past it twice before realizing it was his destination. He pulled into the parking lot, got a space, and killed the engine. He climbed out, grabbed his jacket and his briefcase, and walked to the front door. As he reached for the doorknob, a semi-transparent hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Alex cried out and jerked back, but the hand held tight.   
  
"Password, please," a cold voice said.   
  
"Uh . . . stop the world."   
  
"Enter."   
  
The door slowly creaked open, revealing the body belonging to the hand. It was a tall, slender, semi-transparent man with a fringe of grey hair and dark grey eyes.   
  
"I am Kloppman," he said. "Who are you?"   
  
"Alex. Uh, Alex Durecht."   
  
"The new one," Kloppman said, nodding. He floated behind the desk and began paging through a book. "Mr. Kelly needs to see you."   
  
"Right . . . thanks . . ."   
  
Kloppman gestured to a closed door at the end of the hallway. Alex swallowed and made his way to the door, then knocked.   
  
"Come in!" someone yelled from within. Alex reached for the doorknob, cringing in expectation for another cold hand to grab him. When none did, he cautiously opened the door and stepped in.   
  
Five men were sitting around the office, talking and joking. Two were playing cards, while two others were throwing darts, and the last was reading a magazine.   
  
"I'm looking for . . . Mr. Kelly?" Alex said hesitantly.   
  
"That'd be me," said the one with the magazine, tossing it on the desk. "What can I do you for?"   
  
"I'm Alex Durecht," Alex said, extending his hand. "I was just hired . . .?"   
  
"Oh, yeah, you," Mr. Kelly said, shifting and shaking Alex's hand. "So what do you do?"   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"What do you *do?*" At Alex's blank look, Mr. Kelly sighed and pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket. "Light me, Mush."   
  
One of the card-playing guys looked up. "You got it." He closed his eyes and suddenly Mr. Kelly's cigarette was lit.   
  
/A pyrokinetic?/ Alex thought, amazed. /What kind of place is this?/   
  
"Thanks much. Now," Mr. Kelly turned back to Alex, "what do you do?"   
  
"I'm, uh, psychokinetic. I don't like to use it much, though, it gives me migraines."   
  
"Don't worry. You won't use it much today. Can we have a bit of a demonstration?"   
  
"Okay." Alex focused his eyes in the whiteboard behind Mr. Kelly's desk and concentrated. The red marker lifted, uncapped, and wrote in neat, flowing script, "Alexander Durecht." The pen began to shake and was barely recapped before it fell back to its original position. Alex's hand flew to his temple as a sharp, blinding pain shot through his head.   
  
"Impressive," Mr. Kelly commented, turning and examining the work. "You're a powerful one. You could become great with some training."   
  
"Thanks. I--"   
  
"Ooh, he's a nice one. Where'd you get him, Jackie-boy?"   
  
Alex's head shot up at the voice and he stared dumbfounded as a boy slowly came into view, perched on the edge of Mr. Kelly's desk. Mr. Kelly rolled his eyes.   
  
"Spot, this is Alex. He's new here. Alex, this is Spot, our resident pain in the a--er, 'spirit world advisor.'"   
  
"Funny, Jackie. Funny." Spot glared at Mr. Kelly then hopped off the desk, circling Alex and continuing to talk. "Pleased to meetcha, Alex. Why d'you look so scared? I don't bite." He paused. "Often."   
  
"And these," Mr. Kelly said, gesturing expansively to the others, "are your co-workers. Introduce yourselves, boys."   
  
"Miguel Cortes," said the curly-haired pyrokinetic. "Pyrokinesis, but I'm sure you figured that out."   
  
"We call 'im Mush," Spot interjected, " 'cause he turns everything he touches to mush!"   
  
"Eric Bennett," said the other card player, who had a patch over his left eye. "Telepathy."   
  
"He's Blink, and he's telepathe~tic," Spot sang out. Eric smacked him.   
  
"Benedict Ramírez," said one of the dart-players, a handsome Hispanic. "Paranormal expert."   
  
"That's Bumlets," Spot added, " 'cause he has got one gorgeous bum!" He reached over and pinched said bum, causing Benedict to jump and blush.   
  
"James Thatcher," said the final guy, turning and smiling at Alex. "ESP."   
  
"Snoddy," Spot said, grinning. "He has allergies."   
  
"And I'm Jack Kelly," Mr. Kelly said. "Resident necromancer."   
  
"We call him Cowboy because he never shuts up about wanting to go West," Spot said, rolling his eyes. He looked at Alex again, seemingly taking the measure of him. "Durecht . . . that's Dutch, isn't it?"   
  
"Um. Yeah."   
  
"Then Dutchy it is!" Spot crowed, beaming at him and hopping back onto Mr. Kelly's desk. "Seeya, Jackie. Got places to go, things to see, people to do. You know how it goes." He waved and disappeared.   
  
"Welcome to Things That Go Bump Investigations, Dutchy," Mr. Kelly said. "Hope you enjoy your stay."   
  
~end part one~  
  



	2. Spooky

Hey everyone! Here's part two of "Things That Go Bump." But before the fic, the shout-outs!

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Punch: Hey, you and me both, chica. Ask and ye shall receive—here's part two!

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Vinyl: Spot thanks you from the bottom of his little black heart, as do I. ^_~

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Alexis: Whoohoo! *runs off with the Bumlets on top*

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Jeremy: Thanks! The e-mail should be on its way!

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Stage: Because you're just that good? *grin* EVERYONE WISH STAGE A HAPPY BIRTHDAY! SHE'S OLD NOW! Specs will be here . . . eventually.

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Manda: *presses #42* I'd like a cheesecake with Bumlets on top, please.

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Bittah: Thanks! 

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Stress: Hiya chica! *waves* Here's more!

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Things That Go Bump (2/5)

Spooky

The next day, Alex was no more prepared for Kloppman's grab than he had been the day before. He managed to stammer out the password and found, to his surprise, the others waiting out in the hallway.

"Heya, Dutchy," Blink said. "You're in luck!"

"Why? What's going on?"

"We just got a call," Jack replied. "The woman claimed her house was possessed, but Bumlets is pretty sure it's a poltergeist." He tossed Alex a small leather case. "You'll need this." 

"Kloppman?" Snoddy said, turning to the ghostly doorman. 

"Oscar's coming," the old man replied, gesturing to a side door that Alex was certain hadn't been there before. The six men trooped out the door to a dented, rusty minivan whose glory days had probably been sometime in the Stone Age and climbed in.

"Oscar, meet Alex. He's the new guy," Jack said from the front seat.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Oscar said, glancing over his shoulder at Alex. 

"Dutchy, this is Oscar, the driver."

"Hi," Alex responded uncertainly.

Jack told Oscar the address of the call and they were off. Alex took a moment to open the case Jack had given him. Within it was a small plastic ID card with 

"Things That Go Bump Investigations

Alexander Durecht

Psychokinetic"

written on it, along with a picture of him looking startled.

/When'd they take that?/ he wondered.

Blink glanced over at him. "When Kloppy grabs you," he replied.

"Huh?"

"Oh! Sorry." Blink blushed and grinned shamefacedly. "I gotta stop doing that. I know it's rude."

Before Alex could fully process that comment, there was a yelp from the back seat.

"Where's my cross?" Alex and Blink turned to see Bumlets digging through a black briefcase. "Okay, guys, it wasn't funny the first time. Where is it?"

"What d'you need your cross for?" Mush asked sourly, rubbing the spot where Bumlets' flailing elbows had jabbed him in the side. 

"Just in case," Bumlets replied. Suddenly, with an "aha!," he pulled a plain wooden cross from the briefcase. "There it is! Stupid cross, always hiding from me." He hung it around his neck and continued searching through the briefcase.

"So . . . um . . . what exactly does this job entail?" Alex asked nervously.

"Well, if it's just a poltergeist, not much," Jack replied. "You just need to hold it down." 

"If it actually _is_ a possession, though," Snoddy said, "we'll need a bit more than that."

"Hey, Mush, remember our first possession?" Blink asked, turning in his seat and grinning at the curly-haired boy. 

Mush rolled his eyes. "Wasn't that a blast and a half," he said with a chuckle. 

"We're here," Oscar announced, shutting off the van. "What time should I pick you guys up?"

"We should be done in an hour," Jack estimated. "I'll call if I think we'll be later than that." The men got out and Alex watched with a feeling of slowly growing trepidation as the van peeled away. They went up to the door. Jack rang the doorbell and an extremely tall girl flung open the door.

"WHAT?" she shrieked. Her eyes went from man to man and her entire demeanor changed instantly. "Hello," she purred. "Can I help you?" 

Jack stepped forward and held out his hand. "Jack Kelly. Things That Go whoooa!" The girl had grabbed his wrist, pulled him close, and given him a real scorcher of a kiss. Jack staggered back, eyes wide, his eyes like dinner plates. 

"Hey, Cowboy, remember the wife!" Blink said with a grin, elbowing the other man in the side.

"Aww . . ." The girl pouted. "The hot ones are always taken." She sighed, then leaned back in the house and yelled, "LILY! YOUR EXORCISTS ARE HERE!" 

"Let them in!" a second voice replied faintly. The girl stood aside and let the six men file in. Another girl, presumably Lily, came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. 

"Hi," she said with a smile, holding out a hand. "I'm Lily. That's my roomie, Cats, the walking ball of hormones." 

"Hiya!" Cats chirped.

Jack cautiously shook her hand. "I'm Jack Kelly, these are my employees. Now what seems to be the problem?"

"Our house is possessed!" Cats yelled. "That's the problem!" 

"Look out!" Snoddy cried suddenly. Everyone ducked except Alex, who didn't see anything to look out for. Mush grabbed his sleeve and yanked him down. A second later, a large copper pot flew through the air where Alex's head had been. 

"That answer your question?" Lily asked dryly as they stood.

"Typical poltergeist behavior," Bumlets said. "A fairly weak one, too, judging." 

"HEY! Who you callin' weak?" a heavily accented voice yelled. 

"Get ready to hold him down, Dutch. Mush, start charging up. Bumlets, get the cross." Jack's orders were hissed and rapid-fire.

As the eight watched, a fairly short Italian man appeared. Dressed in turn of the century clothes with a cigar hanging out of his mouth, the poltergeist was a stereotypical late-nineteenth century gambler.

"I ain't weak," he continued, flicking an ash off the end of his cigar, "and I don't appreciate bein' called it." 

Cats' jaw dropped and she took a step forward. "You," she said, "are incredibly hot. Why didn't you ever show yourself before?" 

"Huh?" said the poltergeist.

Lily smacked herself in the forehead. "Cats, no . . ."

"Now, Dutchy!" Jack yelled suddenly. Alex jumped, startled, then concentrated. The poltergeist suddenly flew backwards and slammed against a wall, spread-eagled. He yelled and began struggling against his invisible bonds, but they refused to give. 

"Hurry, Cowboy," Alex hissed. His head was beginning to throb already and he could feel cold sweat beading on his forehead.

Bumlets whipped out the cross from beneath his shirt and pressed close to the poltergeist, which hissed and shrank away. 

Jack quickly unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt, revealing a pentagram tattooed to his upper chest. He yelled something and Snoddy pulled out a jar. A beam of blue light shot out of the pentagram, hit the poltergeist, and there was a blast of cold air and Snoddy screwed the lid onto the jar.

"Got 'im!" he announced triumphantly. 

Alex fell to his knees, clutching his head. It was pounding so badly that he could hardly see. Someone hauled him to his feet and he slumped against his savior, his concentration solely focused on staying upright and not vomiting. He could hear conversation, but it sounded far away and like an annoying buzzing. 

"There is your problem, ladies," the Jack-buzz said. "All sealed up for you to dispose of."

"Can I keep him?" the Cats-buzz asked. The Jack-buzz shrugged and handed the jar to the Cats-buzz, who whooped and dashed out of the room.

"Thank you so much," said the Lily-buzz. "How much do I owe you?"

"We'll send the bill," the Jack-buzz replied. "Good day." 

"Dutchy?" the Mush-buzz asked way too loudly. "Can you walk?"

Alex pressed closer into his savior's shoulder, trying to get away from the loud noise. 

"Shh," said the Snoddy-buzz. "He's in pain." Suddenly, Alex wasn't on his feet anymore and was being carried. 

/Hmm,/ he thought. /Now would be a good time to pass out./

Everything faded to black.

You like? REVIEW! Thanks!


	3. Blessed be the Ties that Bind

Hey everyone! Welcome to part three of "Things That Go Bump!" But before I get to the story proper, how about some shout-outs?

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Stress: Don't worry, hon, you're the only one kissing your man in this part. *grin* You want more, you got more!

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Vinyl: Yeah, poor Dutchy, and things ain't any brighter now. *pets Dutchy* You're right, Jack is v. sexy. Okay, so it wasn't exactly SOON, but here IS more!

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Ferret chan: Yes, I am. *takes pencil* Yeah, you and Stage both . . .

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Punch: I like the new e-mail! 'Tis fitting. Well, the wait is over (at least temporarily)! But no Specs this chapter, sorry. 

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Stage: Yeah, there is. And there's a whole lot more in this part. *GRIN* And no, no! Please! Don't do something! Except write more "Malevolent Sins," damn you!

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Mage: Yes, I write more, yes, I post more, but no more Race. He's in Cats' closet now. And don't worry, my reviews are normally like that; just ask Stage . . . but does that mean they're going to get stranger as I get to college? O_o

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Blue W Trick: Thank you! ^_____^ Here is some more!
    
    And awaaay we go!

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Things That Go Bump

Blessed Be the Ties that Bind 

"Look, Alex!" the woman's voice called from another room. "Come look!"

Alex blinked. He was fairly sure that there hadn't been a woman in his house when he had left that morning. So thinking, he got up and walked into the other room. 

In the center of the room stood a huge, pink, frilly bassinet. Alex jerked backwards instinctively at the . . . pink . . . sight. How had that gotten there? He was a bachelor. He did not _do_ pink and frilly. Bending over the bassinet was a slender woman with wavy black hair. She looked up and smiled at him. 

"Oh, look, Alex, isn't she beautiful?"

"Jewel?" Alex asked, totally lost. "But we broke up in high school!"

The woman, who he had now identified as his high school girlfriend Jewel, smiled beatifically at him. "What are you talking about, Alex? We got married right after high school." She lifted a bundle from the bassinet and walked over to him. "And this is our baby." Jewel pulled back the blanket, and Alex looked in to see a beautiful baby girl. She opened her mouth and scrunched up her face to cry, but instead of a normal baby's cry, a noise that sounded a lot like Alex's cell phone ring came from her mouth. 

"What the--?"

The baby kept crying like Alex's cell phone until Alex realized, in a sort of fuzzy way, that he was dreaming and his phone was ringing. He reached out and blindly groped for it. 

"Hello?" he asked blearily after hitting the 'Talk' button.

"Hey, Dutch. Did I wake you?" 

"Yeah." Alex squinted at the digital clock on his nightstand. 12:30. 12:30? 12:30! "Oh, geez! It's after noon! I'm not in trouble with Cowboy, am I?" 

Snoddy laughed. "Nah. It's Saturday. Besides, after that attack you had, Cowboy'd let you stay home. By the way, are you feeling better?"

"Yeah, but then, I haven't sat up yet." Wait a minute, home? How had he got home? The last thing he remembered was a blinding pain and a vague sensation of being carried. "Hang on, how did _I _get home? You guys didn't let me drive, did you?"

"No!" Snoddy sounded so horrified at the idea that Alex had to chuckle. "We dropped you off on our way back to the office. Oh, that reminds me—Cowboy told me to tell you that he's going to need a copy of the key to your apartment if you plan to have any more fits like that. Bumlets didn't have fun picking your lock."

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know."

"Almost forgot! After every successful job, we usually go to Cowboy's house to celebrate. You up for that?"

"Yeah, sure." Alex laughed. "Not like I had plans for tonight anyway."

"So, I'll pick you up at seven, then?"

"Whoa! Hold on!" Alex sat straight up and a wave of nausea crashed over him. When it passed, he managed to croak out, "Say again?"

"I'll pick you up at seven," Snoddy repeated, over-enunciating each word. "Is that okay?"

"Are you asking me out?"

"Basically, yeah."

/Well, if that isn't audacity . . ./ "Okay. See you then."

"Yeah. See you then." Alex hit 'End' on his cell phone and just sat there for a second, letting it all sink in. Then, he grinned and hit a couple of buttons, then waited for the other person to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Princess, it's Alex. You will _not_ believe what just happened . . ."

That evening, at seven o' clock sharp, someone knocked on Alex's door. Alex took a deep breath, compulsively straightened his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, then opened the door.

"Hi, Snoddy."

"Hey, Dutchy. You ready to go?"

"Um. Yeah." Alex swallowed hard. /God, listen to me! I sound like such an idiot. Such intelligent conversation./ The two men began walking down the hallway towards the elevator. 

"You look very nice," Snoddy commented. 

"Thanks." Alex felt his face heating up. "Uh, you do too." 

They walked in silence. 

"I'm sorry, Dutchy," Snoddy said suddenly. "I'm not much for conversation.:"

"That's okay," Alex replied with a relieved laugh. "I'm not either." 

The rest of the trip was passed in companionable silence. 

Snoddy finally killed his car's engine in front of a large house about ten miles beyond the city limits. It was a simple but elegant house, painted in earth tones with dark green shutters for contrast. Planted in front of the house and along the sidewalk leading to the front door were different varieties of cacti.

"Guard plants," Alex commented, looking at the two-inch long spikes on one. 

Snoddy chuckled as they made their way up to the front door. "Cowboy insisted on them. He said it made the place look more like Santa Fe." He rang the doorbell and a blonde woman answered. 

"Snoddy! Glad you could make it. And you must be Dutchy." She smiled. "Come on in. The girls have been waiting for you, Snoddy." She stepped aside, and Alex and Snoddy went in. Before Snoddy had taken an entire step within the house, he was attacked by two roughly waist-high blurs. 

"Uncle Snoddy!" said one of the blurs. It stopped moving long enough for Alex to identify it as a girl of about six years old with dirty-blonde hair and big blue eyes. 

"Come look what we did!" said the other blur, which was identical to the first. Both girls seized Snoddy's hands and led him off. 

"Oh!" said the woman. She turned to Alex and stuck out her hand. "We haven't been properly introduced. I'm Jess Kelly, but please, call me Stress. You are?"

"Alex Durecht," Alex replied, shaking her hand. "Were those two your daughters?"

"Yes," Stress replied, looking at where the girls had disappeared with a fond smile. "Katie and Melissa. They're very fond of Snoddy, if you couldn't tell." She motioned for Alex to follow her. As they walked, Stress continued, "Everyone's here except for Blink and Fire, but, then, newlyweds are always late." She glanced over her shoulder and smirked, making the meaning of her words perfectly clear, and Alex flushed. 

They arrived at the living room, an expansive area covered with Western-style décor. A faded handbill from Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show hung under glass on one wall, while framed covers of penny dreadfuls showcasing Santa Fe decorated the others. A cowboy hat hung over each entrance. Scattered about the room were loveseats, upon which Alex's fellow investigators and several women Alex didn't recognize were sitting. In the center of the room was a long, low table loaded with pizza, chips, dip, and vegetables. 

"Take a seat," said Stress, gesturing to an empty loveseat while taking hers next to Jack. "Help yourself, there's plenty of food for everyone." She reached over and opened a cooler next to her. "What do you want?"

"Uh, Diet Coke, please," Alex replied. Stress tossed him a soda, which Alex fumbled desperately before managing to get a grip on it. 

Snoddy came back in then, still being dragged by Katie and Melissa. He sat next to Alex, sending the girls back to their mother.

"Adorable, but a handful," he commented quietly to Alex.

Introductions were made. With Bumlets was his wife, Gabrielle, a freelance photographer, but, she explained, no one had called her "Gabrielle" since she had set a box of Cheerios ablaze . . . hence her nickname Blaze.

On the loveseat next to them were Mush and his fiancée, Melody, a museum curator. Like Blaze, she too had a nickname that reflected her personality—due to her penchant for listening to and singing gloomy songs, she had earned the nickname Bittersweet Harmony, or Bittah.

Just as the introductions were finished, the doorbell rang and Stress got up to answer it. She returned with a rather red Blink, followed by a girl whose face matched her bright red hair. 

"The newlyweds are here!" she said with a grin. 

The reason behind Felicia Bennett's nickname, Firecracker, was painfully obvious. Her fiery hair was the first thing Alex noticed about her. 

"Okay, girls, time for bed," Jack said.

"But Da~ddy!" the girls whined in chorus. 

Jack shook his head firmly. "Mommy and I said that you could stay up until everyone got here. Everyone's here, so it's bedtime." He hoisted his daughters into the air, one under each arm, and carried them from the room, ignoring their struggles and protests. 

"So, Dutchy," Blaze said, "how did a guy like you get wrapped up in all of this supernatural nonsense?"

Alex shrugged helplessly. "All I know is, one day I'm working at J.C. Penney's with my best friend, and that evening, I get a letter that says, 'Dear Mr. Durecht, you're telekinetic, we need a telekinetic, you start Monday.' "

Firecracker chuckled. "That sounds like Eric's letter. Remember that, honey?"

"Yeah," Blink agreed with a grin. " 'Dear Mr. Bennett, we need someone with your powers, and no, you don't get a choice.' It was the first experience I had with someone reading _my_ mind." 

The conversation meandered from topic to topic. There were a lot of laughs, usually at someone's expense. Finally, Alex asked the question that had been bothering him for a while: 

"I'm curious," he said. "Is everyone's having a nickname on purpose or just a weird coincidence?"

Everyone exchanged glances.

"I think Jack would be the best to tell you about that," Stress said finally.

"Well, Jack?" Bittah asked. "What is with the nicknames?"

Jack shifted, a look of inexpressible sadness crossed his face, making him look much, much older than he was. 

"Ah," he said softly. "The nicknames." He sighed. "Well, Dutch, you see, when Things That Go Bump started, it was me, Snoddy, Bumlets, David, Dominic, and Jake. At first, we just used each other's real names—we didn't see a point in not. But—I don't know if you've ever heard it—there's a myth that says that if someone knows your true name, then they have complete control over you. 

"It's not true for human-to-human contact, but luckily for us, it is true when you're dealing with spirits. Unfortunately, it's a two-way street. If a spirit learns your true name, he can control you. 

"Dominic was America's foremost tarot card reader. He could look at one card and tell you your life's story. Somehow—we're not completely sure how—a spirit got a hold of Dominic's real name. Dominic was driven to insanity by the spirit and killed himself."

"God rest his soul," Bumlets murmured, crossing himself. 

"We didn't know for sure how it had happened, so we dismissed it as a singular incident," Jack continued. "Jake—he could fly; it was as natural to him as walking is to us—was the next to go. David said his real name on a case, but we figured it didn't matter since we captured the spirit we'd come for. What we didn't know was that there was another ghost, one who'd heard his name. A few months later, Jake followed Dominic's example." Jack swallowed hard.

"We began to think that there was a connection between our real names and the deaths. That was when the tradition of nicknames began. When they were new, though, I screwed up and called David by his real name while we were trying to seal a ghost. The spirit took control of him right then, and although we managed to seal it, we killed David in the process." He swallowed again and blinked a few times. "Since then, we've sworn never to call one another by our real names on a case, because none of us wants to end up like them." 

Although the small talk continued for a little while longer, the party was effectively over. Each couple bid Jack and Stress good-bye and filed out. A feeling like a huge, rectangular ice cube settled in the pit of Alex's stomach. As he and Snoddy left, he mumbled a quick apology to Stress, then darted out. 

Snoddy caught up with him by the car. They got into the car in silence, then about halfway back to Alex's apartment, he dared to speak.

"Boy, I really killed the mood, didn't I?" 

Snoddy laughed softly. "It's not your fault. Cowboy's been blaming himself for David's death for far too long now; it's good that he finally managed to get the whole story out." 

The rest of the ride passed in silence, mainly because Alex was feeling far too idiotic to speak. Single-handedly, he had managed to totally ruin the celebration. He was SUCH an idiot.

"Dutch—Alex, listen," Snoddy said once they had gotten to Alex's apartment building and were sitting out in the parking lot, the car idling. He reached over and covered Alex's folded hands with his own. "Don't blame yourself. The story was bound to come out eventually. It was just bad luck you happened to trigger it." He smiled. "I don't blame you, and no one else does either. Want me to walk you up to your place?"

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Mind? Nah. It'll be a pleasure." Snoddy killed the engine and got out, going around and opening Alex's door for him. Alex couldn't help but flush a bit. 

They walked up to Alex's apartment, and just before Alex turned to bid Snoddy good-night, the taller man gently seized his shoulders and kissed him chastely. 

"Good night," he whispered once they had separated. "Sweet dreams." He grinned, winked, and sauntered down the hallway.

In a daze, Alex let himself in and slumped against the door. He listened for the sounds of the elevator doors shutting, and once he was sure Snoddy had departed, he jumped up, punched the air, and screamed,

"YES!"

~end part three~


	4. System

Hey everyone! Welcome to part four! First, though, the shout-outs!

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Ferret: It only gets slashier. *grin*

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Stress: The people who applied to the CC are in this part. I wasn't able to use them all *sad* but I was able to get quite a few. And, yes, Jack does get more screen time in this part. Be happy. *pets*

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Dizzy, whom I may know as Punch: Specs does make an appearance in this part! Be happy! I'm sorry, I don't mean to be killing you. So, in order to keep you from being annoying at me, here is part four.

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Blaze: Aww, thank you. (PLUG: GO READ "JAY AND SILENT BOB: NEWSIE STYLE" RIGHT NOW!) I really liked the girls too—hee, and they make a reappearance. It's okay if you ramble up a storm 'cause it's a good storm.

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Vinyl: Isn't it GREAT?! (PLUG: GO READ "THE NEWSIES' SCHOOL FOR PLEASURING WOMEN" RIGHT NOW! Pimp hat!) I (heart) slash. It gets slashier, too. ^___^ Yeah, poor David. Oh well. And thank you for the nice words!

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Neffie: Thanks hon! Aren't they a great couple? I'm getting rather attached to them. But yeah, here's more. Stop poking me! Eep! *bats away hands*

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Stage: Ack! *bowled over* Yes, I updated, and I'm doing it again! Snoddy and Dutchy aren't QUITE about to be ripped apart . . . next chappie, maybe. (PLUG: GO READ "L'arte di Seduzione" RIGHT NOW! I have pink boots!) Anyway, thanks, and here's more!

And awaaaay we go!

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Things That Go Bump ****

System

Time, as it has a tendency to do, passed. Snoddy and Alex began seeing each other on the weekends, then eventually gave into their urges and became an official "couple." Blink came dashing into the office late on more than one occasion after running the newly pregnant Firecracker to and from the doctor's. Bumlets called in sick for a week straight when his eight-year-old son, Nathan, came down with pneumonia, then dragged himself into work the following Monday towing his daughter Maria behind him for 'Bring Your Daughter to Work Day.' All six men attended Katie and Melissa's ballet recital, then served as best men in Mush and Bittah's wedding three weeks later. 

In his time working at Things That Go Bump Investigations, Alex had been forced to reconcile himself with the fact that other ghosts besides Spot and Kloppman haunted the office, and that they _all _thought he was good-looking.

His first run-in with a ghost was when he was walking to the restroom and he heard the sound wood breaking and crashing, followed by a girl's scream. He ran as fast as he could to the location of the screams, only to see a huge hole yawning in the middle of the floor. Alex looked into the hole and saw the crumpled, bloodied body of a blonde girl with shattered glasses, whom he later found out was called Gears, staring blankly up at him. Then, before his eyes, everything vanished. 

Other encounters of the ghostly kind included seeing a short girl with long curly hair falling past him, screaming, later named Braces; a bloody, bruised redhead with a broken nose, nicknamed Tunes; a brunette, called Bookie, who tripped over nothing and impaled herself; and a girl referred to as Holiday who jumped off the wall and drowned in the floor. 

Alex's most interesting experience, no doubt, was when he ran into the girl who called herself Gambler. Like Spot, she just seemed to pop up at random to harass the investigators. When he asked her how she had died, she blinked, then grinned.

"Um... a factory! Yeah, that's it... I was trying to save a burning baby! That's it exactly! The baby was on fire, better throw her in the water... look at her laughing, like a heifer to the slaughter..." She looked at Alex's skeptical expression. "No? Okay, enough. Um... I was shot because I used to be A BURGLAR! Ha ha! YES!" She winked, blew a kiss, and disappeared. 

It was a bright Wednesday morning in May. Alex had been working for the investigation service for six months, four of which had been spent getting used to Kloppman grabbing his wrist daily.

As he reached for the doorknob, Kloppman grabbed his wrist.

"Password, please."

"Stop the world." The door opened and Alex stepped in, grateful for the respite from the sunlight. He'd been up late the night before—Princess had said she would call, and she hadn't, so Alex had called all of their mutual friends to get a lock on her whereabouts. Unfortunately, no one had seen her for the last few days.

Alex greeted Kloppman and began towards the office. An odd thumping interrupted him and he looked around, confused. As he watched, a semi-transparent boy of about fifteen slowly hobbled out of the wall, leaning heavily on a crutch. The boy made his way across, then stopped and stared at Alex. His large soulful eyes glittered with tears on the brink of falling. Alex shivered, chilled by the experience, and went on to the office. 

"Cowboy," he said, setting his briefcase down and taking a seat by Snoddy, "who's the ghost with the crutch?"

"Crutchy," Jack replied. "We're pretty sure he was a poor kid, probably died in the early 1900s. No one's certain, though—we haven't had a medium since—since David." Once again, a look of inexpressible sadness flickered across his face at the mention of the dead medium. He shook himself, then opened a desk drawer and tossed Alex a large manila envelope. "Here. These are the instructions for your first solo investigation. It'll be perfect for you."

Alex opened the envelope and removed its contents, a single typed sheet of paper. It outlined the case in terse, impersonal terms. Apparently, there had been a rash of vampire attacks, mainly on the employees who worked at a bar called the Sphinx's Riddle. Alex's job was to find, investigate, and dispose of the vampire.

/The Sphinx's Riddle? Princess and I go there all the time. Wonder if I know any of the victims./

"Here's some other stuff you might need," Jack continued, pulling out a thick folder stuffed with photographs. He flicked through them and pulled one out, then handed it to Alex. It showed a young woman, around eighteen, dressed in a short, tight vinyl dress. Her throat had been ripped out.

"Kirsten Johnson," Jack said. "More popularly known as Vinyl. She was a dancer at the Sphinx's Riddle. Do you know of it?"

Alex nodded numbly, too shocked by the carnage and the fact that he _did_ know the girl to answer aloud. Jack handed him a second picture, this one more awful than the first. It pictured a second girl, this one only sixteen or so, dressed in a leather miniskirt and a low-cut white tank top. Her heart had been torn from her chest. 

"Elise Damon, better known as Stage," Jack said. "She was the barmaid at the Sphinx's Riddle." He pulled two more pictures out and set the rest down.

As he looked at the third picture, Alex felt hot tears spring to his eyes. The girl in the picture was in her mid-twenties, dressed in a simple business suit. Her only visible wounds were the punctures in her neck.

"The last one doesn't fit the pattern at all. She was a manager at J.C. Penney's. Name was—"

"Margaret MacEaver, or Princess," Alex finished hoarsely. He covered his mouth with his hand, trying to will back the tears. /Oh, Maggie . . ./ Snoddy wrapped his arms around Alex, pulling him close.

"You know her?" Jack asked gently.

Alex nodded. "We went to the Sphinx's Riddle together all the time." His voice broke on the last word and a few rogue tears slipped down his cheeks. 

"I'll pull you off the case, then," Jack said. "Mush or Blink can handle it." 

Alex shook his head vehemently. "No! I can . . . I can do it." 

"Are you sure?" At Alex's nod, Jack handed him the last picture. It depicted a young man, about nineteen or twenty, with coffee-colored hair and chocolate eyes that sparkled behind circular, wire-framed glasses. He was laughing at something and seemed vibrant and alive. 

"This is the suspected vampire. Goes by the name of Specs. Lives in the old Snyder place. That's really all we can find out about him." Jack looked at Alex again, taking the measure of him. "Dutch, are you absolutely _sure_ you can handle this?"

Alex took a deep, shuddering breath, then met Jack's concerned dark gaze. "No. But I need to. For—for Princess." Snoddy squeezed him gently and dropped a comforting kiss on his neck. 

He spent the rest of the day in a numb daze. He was uncharacteristically quiet and spent most of his time staring blankly at the carpeted floor of the office, his thoughts spinning far too fast in his head for him to deal with. When he left for the day, he missed Snoddy's lips by a mile and ended up absently kissing his earlobe. 

Later that evening, Snoddy parked in front of Alex's apartment building and took a quick glance around. To his immense relief, he saw Alex's navy Corolla in one piece a few spaces down. He went in, bid a quick hello to the landlady, and ran up the five flights of stairs to Alex's apartment. 

As Snoddy opened the door, a piece of pottery flew through the air and smashed by his head. Snoddy threw up his hands instinctively to protect his face from the ceramic shrapnel. 

"Alex?" he called. 

He lowered his hands and looked around in horror. Alex's normally somewhat clean apartment had been torn to shreds. Pottery was on the floor, smashed into thousands of pieces. Chairs were overturned and three of the coffee table's legs had been ripped off. In the midst of the wreckage knelt Alex, objects flying around his head and crashing into walls. He was sobbing hysterically and tearing at his hair, and, as Snoddy watched, the glass of a picture burst, and the picture itself fell to the ground, the frame snapping. 

"Alex!" 

At Snoddy's cry, Alex looked up. His face was blotchy and tearstained, and blood trickled down his face and hands from where he had been cut by shards of pottery. 

"James," he whimpered. "James, it hurts . . . why did she die? Why?" He stretched out his hands to Snoddy, and the objects circling his head fell to the ground with a clatter. Snoddy picked his way through the debris and knelt carefully next to Alex, gathering the blonde man into his arms.

"It's okay, sweetie," he soothed, stroking the fine blonde hair beneath his hands. "Shh . . . it's okay . . ." 

Alex trembled for a few seconds, then stiffened. "Oh . . . James, my head . . ."

"It's okay, angel," Snoddy said. "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." As if he'd spoken a magic word, Alex slumped against him, unconscious. 

Snoddy lifted Alex as he had in their first case and looked down fondly at his face, marred with tears even in sleep, and shook his head. He carried Alex to his bedroom and set him down gently, stroking a hand along his face-- 

__

screaming crying why won't you die tearing slicing die already just die bleeding fading die why won't you die just DIE! 

Snoddy gasped and clutched his heart. He stared at the sleeping form before him with a growing feeling of impending doom. 

/Jack Kelly, if you have _any_ human decency in you, you will pull Alex off of this case right now./

. . . _just die . . ._

/Before it's too late./

~end part four~


	5. Ain't No Sunshine

Chapter five is finally up! (Thanks to Blaze's pushing and prodding . . .) First, though, the shout-outs!

**Neffie****: *wails* Stop pokin' meee! But here's more anyway.**

**Stress: I updated, updated, updated! (PLUG: GO READ "T.A.R.K." RIGHT NOW!) See? Now you can be happy again!**

**Dizzy: He does make a seksi vamp, though, doesn't he? Now you don't have to live in suspense anymore, YAY!**

**Blue W Trick: You don't get to see Specs quite yet.  Next  part, though, promise.**

**Stage: Is it really? I'm psychic! (heart) Princess died about two days prior to Dutchy finding out about it—part four takes place approximately six months after part three.  Anywho, thanks for the hug!**

**Blaze: Well? What are you waiting for? WRITE! Or I'll . . . I'll . . . *casts about for decent threat* I'll send T.A.R.K. after you! And you would NOT want that.  **

**Vinyl: Okay, dear, here's more.  Yes, you're dead.  Aww . . . anyway, no problem about the plug.  'Twas my pleasure.**

**ferret**** in NYC: Why thank you! (I think . . .) **

And awaaay we go!

**Things That Go Bump**

**Ain't**** No Sunshine**

Three days later, on an unseasonably cool and stormy May afternoon, Margaret MacEaver was interred to her final resting place.  Among the mourners, all family or close friends, Alex was a gaunt, pale figure clad in solid black.  Snoddy kept a comforting arm around his lover's waist.

As the priest stepped off his platform, Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out his index cards.  Since he was Princess' best friend, he had been asked to deliver her eulogy.  He mounted the platform, took a breath, and began to speak.

"Lamentations, chapter two, verses eleven through thirteen, and chapter five, verse fifteen.

"My eyes fail from weeping, I am in torment within, my heart is poured out onto the ground because my people are destroyed, because children and infants faint in the streets of the city.

"They say to their mothers, 'Where is bread and wine?' as they faint like wounded men in the streets of the city, as their lives ebb away in their mothers' arms.

"What can I say for you? With what can I compare you, O Daughter of Jerusalem? To what can I liken you, so that I may comfort you, O Virgin Daughter of Zion? Your wound is as deep as the sea.  Who can heal you? 

"Joy is gone from our hearts; our dancing has turned to mourning.

"Maggie was my best friend.  We met when she defended me against a bully in preschool and became inseparable.  All though elementary school, middle school, high school, and even college, we stuck together.  We swore that no one would ever break us up.  Even in the first grade, when our teachers moved our seats around, we would refuse to move unless we were near each other.  Usually, by the first month in, we were no longer Alex Durecht and Maggie MacEaver, just AlexnMaggie.

"Under different circumstances, Maggie probably would have gone from my best friend, to my girlfriend, to my wife.  Nature decreed that it not be that way, though, but Maggie stuck by me even after I came out to her.  She even offered to beat up anyone who threatened me."  Alex couldn't hold back the bittersweet smile that curled his lips.

"Losing Maggie was like having a hole ripped out of my heart, one that I'm not sure will ever heal.  I won't say that I'll never forget her, because it's pointless.  You don't forget half of your heart."  Alex's voice broke as he began to cry, but he struggled on.  "I will, however, say that I will try my hardest to see the beauty in everything, like she did, and keep her memory alive."  He abruptly turned and ran off the platform, sobbing softly.  Snoddy enveloped him in his embrace and let him cry.

The rest of the funeral went by in a blur for Alex.  He was vaguely aware of people consoling him for his loss and complimenting him for his strength.  

/If I were strong, she would still be alive./

"Alex, you ready to go?" 

Alex looked up, startled.  "Yeah.  I am."  He wiped the last few tears from his eyes. Snoddy pulled Alex into his arms again and held him tightly, kissing the top of his head.

"Excuse me," a snide voice said.  Alex and Snoddy pulled apart and looked at the speaker, an older man with a pencil behind his ear and a notepad in his hand.  

"Yes?" Snoddy asked.

"I'm very sorry about the loss of your friend, but can you please keep your abominations behind closed doors where decent folks don't have to see it? I'd appreciate it."

Alex's lips parted slightly and Snoddy's heart sank.  That was the first sign of a fresh sobbing attack.

"I'm very sorry you're such an intolerant fool, but would you mind keeping your archaic opinions to yourself where open-minded people don't have to hear it? Thanks."  Snoddy glared at the man, put his arm around Alex's shoulders, and led him away.

Alex was silent for the duration of the car ride, tears sliding silently down his cheeks, hands twisting anxiously in his lap.

Once they arrived at the apartment complex, Snoddy leaned over and kissed Alex. 

"Take care, angel," he said quietly.  "I'm just a phone call away."

Just then, Alex's cell phone rang.  He fumbled it for a second before answering.  

"Hello?" Snoddy couldn't hear what was being said, but whatever it was, it didn't make Alex happy.   "What? No! You can't—no! I won't—No, Cowboy.  I don't care about me.  Absolutely not."  With one violent movement, he hung up.

"What was that about?" Snoddy asked.  

"Cowboy."  Alex snorted.  "He wanted to take me off the case.  Said I was too 'personally involved.'" 

"Maybe you are, baby," Snoddy said cautiously.  "I mean, she was your best friend—"

"I'm not gonna be pulled off!" Alex yelled.  He turned and glared at Snoddy.  "I gotta kill the bastard! What if it was me, James? What if I was the one lying cold in the ground? Would _you be pulled off the case? Huh?"_

Snoddy started.  "I—"

"That's all the answer I need.  Thanks for the ride."  Alex quickly got out and slammed the door behind him.

Snoddy watched Alex go into the apartment and rubbed his arms, suddenly chilled.  He had only seen the look in Alex's eyes once before—in the second before Dominic pulled the trigger.

For the next few days, Alex didn't come into work.  He would call Jack and tell him where he was going, and Jack couldn't help but notice the slight edge on his voice.

Snoddy let himself into Alex's apartment the following and tossed his head, shaking the water from his hair.  It seemed like it was always raining—there was never any sunshine anymore.  He desperately needed to see if Alex was okay--the last time he had seen him, the blonde had been paler than usual, with dark smudges beneath his bloodshot aquamarine eyes, and he had been trembling so badly he could hardly stand.  

"Alex?" he called.  There was no response but a loud, shrill beep.  Snoddy quickly located the source of the sound and saw Alex's cell phone half-buried under a pile of clothes.  He dug it out and saw that Alex had ten new voice mails.  Curious, and feeling more than a little guilty, Snoddy began to listen.

"Hey, Alex.  It's James. Just wanted to say I love you." *beep* There were a few more messages along these lines that he recalled sending.  Message seven, however, proved to be very interesting.

"Alex sweetie, it's Mom.  You haven't called and I was worried.  I heard about Maggie's death and I wanted to let you know you can always call me.  I love you, sweetheart."  *beep*

"Alex, it's Wednesday and I haven't heard from you.  Are you okay, honey? Call me back."  *beep*

"This is Simon Durecht at 559-1951. Your mother is getting worried.  Please get in touch with one of us."  *beep*

"Alex . . . come home.  Please come home.  Please."  *beep*

"End of messages."

/Where are you, angel?/ Snoddy wondered.

Suddenly, with crystal clarity, Snoddy heard Alex's voice reading in a dull monotone.

_"Samuel Matthew Edwards.  Nickname is "Specs."  Born __August 28, 1949__.__  Died __November 7, 1969__.__  Parents are Jonathan and Catherine Edwards.  Brother Andrew Edwards, deceased __March 19, 1956__.  Attended __Riverton__High School__, graduated salutatorian 1967.__  Attended __College__ of __William__ and Mary until death."__  He paused.  "Goodbye, Samuel."_

_There was a gunshot._

~end part five~


	6. Slept So Long

****

Things That Go Bump

Slept So Long

Alex looked himself over in the mirror and felt a blush rise to his cheeks. He _never_ dressed like this. But then, he'd never had a reason to before. He hoped Snoddy didn't get the wrong idea. 

There was a knock. Alex took a deep breath and opened the door. 

"Hey, angel," Snoddy said, leaning in and kissing him. He pulled back and looked Alex over appreciatively. "Ve_ry_ nice."

Leather pants clung to Alex's slender legs, highlighting their muscular curves. A black tank top showed off his pale skin to its best advantage. From his neck hung a silver cross on a black leather strap, and on his hands were black fingerless gloves. Topping the look off was a silver earring in his right ear and a touch of kohl at the corner of either eye. 

"So . . . you . . . like it?" Alex asked hesitantly.

"Like it?" Snoddy repeated. "_Like_ it?" He stepped forward, grabbed Alex by the hips, and pulled him close, crushing their lips together. When they pulled apart, Snoddy's voice had dropped about an octave. "I love it." 

A blush curled up Alex's neck and stained his face a very attractive shade of tomato. 

"Uh, thank you," he mumbled, ducking his head. 

"Hey, what are you embarrassed about?" Snoddy asked. "You look gorgeous. There's no shame in that." He pulled the apartment door shut and wrapped his arm around Alex's shoulders. "D'you know what you're going to do?"

Alex nodded and allowed himself to be led to the couch. "Yeah. First thing I'm gonna do is find the bastard . . ."

At seven o'clock sharp, Alex stood outside the doors of the Sphinx's Riddle. This was his first time ever going without Princess, and his nerves were in an uproar. Snoddy's words echoed in his head as he looked at the impressive steel-and-onyx exterior of the club.

__

/You'll do fine, angel. Just be careful and watch your step./

/Thanks, hon,/ he thought. Flashing his license as he passed the bouncer, he left the peaceful outside world behind. 

Alex's first impression of the club was the scent of many humans crammed into a small room. He grimaced but pressed on. 

Onstage, a dark-haired man wearing leather pants and a fishnet shirt gyrated to the music, singing along in a somewhat raspy voice.

__

You see, I cannot be forsaken

Because I'm not the only one

We walk amongst you, feeding, raping

Must we hide from everyone?

As if sensing Alex's eyes on him, the singer licked his lips and opened his mouth, revealing a pair of sharp ivory fangs. Alex turned away, fighting off the twin waves of revulsion and desire that rose in him.

Threading through the crowds, Alex grabbed a seat on the far end of the bar. The barmaid, a cute brunette wearing a black corset and a dark red miniskirt, quickly made her way over to him.

"Hey Alex sweetie!" she shouted over the music, grinning and pinching his cheek. She looked around him and frowned. "Where's Maggie?"

Alex felt tears rise to his eyes. "She—she had to stay home." He shook himself. "Hey, Scorch, can you get me a Bloody Mary?" 

"Sure thing, Alex dear." Scorch stared at him, concerned, then shrugged and bustled off. A few seconds later, a small cup with dark red liquid in it slid down the bar. Alex caught it and took a sip, then turned to survey the club.

Out on the floor, a black-clad mass moved to the music. Patrons of the Sphinx's Riddle tended to be more open-minded then most, and on the dance floor, anything went. Hetero, homo, bi—whatever struck one's fancy. 

The music stopped, and the emcee yelled, "Ladies and gentlemen, your band for the night—The Four Gods!

"On the guitar, the tiger of the West, Byron "Pie Eater" Kline!" The guitarist played a few chords and waved. 

"Next, on the keyboard, the dragon from the East, Simon "Swifty" Li!" The keyboarder hit a couple of keys and flashed a pearly white grin.

"Third, on the drums, the turtle of the North, Richard "Snitch" Adams!" The drummer grinned, spun his drumsticks, and played a quick beat.

"Last but definitely not least, the phoenix of the South, Michael "Skittery" Hasczak!" The singer flashed his fangs again. 

"And what are the gods without their priestesses? Meet the girls themselves, Anne Stahl, Amanda White, Elizabeth Block, and Lauren Robertson!" The four girls on the back of the stage giggled and waved.

"Give it up for the Four Gods!"

As the applause died, the band kicked into a new song. Alex began scanning the dance floor for his victim. His breath caught in his throat when he spotted him.

On the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired, dark-eyed man danced himself into a frenzy, head thrown back, arms above his head, writhing lasciviously to the beat. His white tank top had become adhered to his chest and back with sweat, and his leather pants gave off a pale shine in the flashing lights. One word popped up in Alex's head:

/Beautiful./

"Hey, Scorch!" he yelled down the bar. In half a jiffy, Scorch reappeared. 

"What's up, Alex doll?"

"Who's that guy?" Alex asked, pointing to Specs. 

"Him? Nobody knows for sure. People call him Specs, though. Why, you interested?" Scorch grinned at him.

"Yeah."

"Well, go on, then!" Scorch said, shoving him lightly. "I'm sure he'll like you. And if he asks, tell 'im Scorch sent you." She winked, then went back to the other patrons.

__

Walking

Waiting

Alone without a care

Alex pressed through the crowd, receiving more gropes and propositions than he was entirely comfortable with. One blonde man actually reached out and pulled him over to dance, but then his black-haired companion slapped his hand and said something sharply, at which point Alex was released. 

__

Hoping

And hating

The things that I can't bear

When he was finally in the vicinity of his victim, Alex added a little more sway to his hips than was absolutely necessary and sauntered over to the brunette. Pressing a quarter in his hand, he whispered,

"Here's a quarter. Call your mom and tell her you're not coming home tonight."

__

Did you think it's cool to walk right up

To take my life and f—k it up?

Well, did you?

Specs stopped dancing and stared at him. Then he threw his head back and laughed, revealing a pair of sharp white fangs. Alex's stomach lurched, imagining those teeth tearing at Princess' flesh. 

"Haven't heard that one this evening!" Specs yelled. "Wanna dance?"

Alex grinned. "Love to!" Wrapping his arms around Specs' neck, he pressed their bodies together.

__

I see hell in your eyes

Taken in by surprise

Touching you makes me feel alive

Touching you makes me die inside

"They call me Specs! What about you?"

"Dutchy!" Alex shouted back. 

"Curious," Specs commented. "So, you single?"

"I can be," Alex replied. "Depends on how much you're willing to shell out!"

__

Walking

Waiting

Alone without a care

Specs' eyebrows shot straight up. "You're a—"

With a sly grin, Alex rolled his hips, causing Specs to lurch, gasp, and tighten his grip on Alex's waist. As they got into the dance, Alex found it all too easy to forget about the life he'd left behind—all that mattered was the here, the now.

__

Hoping

And hating

The things that I can't bear

Their mouths met almost desperately, Alex running his nails down Specs' back as the other man jerked his hips in such a way that almost sent Alex straight to heaven. Their tongues tangled, the kiss deepening as Specs began to massage Alex's buttocks, causing him to buck.

__

Did you think it's cool to walk right up

To take my life and f—k it up

I 

Hate

You!

They broke apart and Specs began kissing down Alex's neck, nibbling and licking at his jugular vein. With a muted moan, Alex tried to rub against Specs, only to find his progress blocked by Specs' hand.

"Not yet," he whispered. "Not yet."

__

I see hell in your eyes

Taken in by surprise

Touching you makes me feel alive

Touching you makes me die inside

"You taste so good," Specs continued, now licking off the sweat that had gathered in the crook of Alex's neck and shoulder. "Like ambrosia. Or better."

Alex moaned, too far-gone to be any more coherent. This was more intense—hotter—better—than anything he had ever dared imagine.

__

I've slept so long without you

It's tearing me apart to

I hardly got this far

Playing games with this old heart

I've killed a million petty souls

But I couldn't kill you

I've slept so long without you . . .

As the singer's voice reached its climax, Specs grabbed Alex by the back of the head and pulled him in for another deep kiss. The heat built between their bodies as their tongues frantically tangled and their hips rocked together.

Specs pulled away, panting. "C'mon," he gasped. "Bathroom. Now." 

Alex, his head whirling from the sheer intensity of it all, could only nod. The two staggered towards the bathroom, unable to keep their hands off the other. As soon as the bathroom door swung shut behind them, Specs pressed Alex against the wall and kissed him hard. Alex felt a sharp pain in his tongue and gasped against Specs' mouth. Specs flicked his tongue over Alex's as if in apology, then pulled away. As he dropped to his knees, hands fumbling with the button to Alex's pants, Alex registered the sharp, coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

"No," he whimpered, trying to spit the blood out.

Specs, apparently assuming Alex was addressing him, paused.

"You want me to _stop_?" he asked incredulously.

"Not you," Alex replied breathlessly. "Mouth bleeding. Bit my tongue."

"Did you?" Specs asked, and for a split second, a smile crossed his handsome face. "Hope it feels better. But in the meantime . . ." He finished unzipping Alex's pants and paused, licking his lips. Then he dove in for the kill.

Alex moaned and his head fell back as the most pleasurable pain coursed outwards. Desperate to stay upright, his fingers clutched at the smooth tile wall for support.

Amidst his pleasure, a tiny coherent voice popped up in his head and began screaming at him. It said:

Hey! Have you noticed that the feeling is to the right of where it ought to be? And just what the hell are you doing? This is your assignment, for God's sake! You're supposed to kill him! You have a boyfriend! What's Snoddy gonna think? You're cheating on him! HE LOVES YOU!

Just then, Specs gave a particularly strong suck, and the tiny voice lost coherency. 

Although the voice was silenced, what it said was not lost. It was right—the sensations were off-center. One thought pierced the fog shrouding Alex's mind--/Oh my God, he's sucking my blood!"

Alex shoved Specs' head away and straightened up, holding one hand over the puncture wounds in his femoral artery. 

"Heal it," he hissed.

Specs stared up at him, dumbfounded. "What—what are you talking about?"

"I said heal it, vampire!"

Still staring at Alex, Specs reached inside his mouth with his thumb, then brought it back out, the tip bloody, and pressed it to the twin holes in Alex's thighs. He stood up, one hand going to the small of his back.

"So you know what I am," he said. "But you'll never know _who_ I am."

"Samuel Matthew Edwards. Nickname is "Specs." Born August 28, 1949. Died November 7, 1969. Parents are Jonathan and Catherine Edwards. Brother Andrew Edwards, deceased March 19, 1956. Attended Riverton High School, graduated salutatorian 1967. Attended College of William and Mary until death."Alex smirked slightly as Specs' face went white. The vampire pulled his hand from the small of his back, revealing a small gun.

"Won't it be a pity," Specs whispered. "Took his own life at such a young age. He had such potential."

Alex turned his head and narrowed his eyes. Specs leveled the gun, and, just as he was about to fire, the bathroom door swung open and a long wooden stake flew in. 

"Good bye, Samuel," Alex whispered. 

He grabbed it in midair, spun it, and shoved it through Specs' heart just as the gun fired.

The bullet embedded itself in Alex's shoulder, and he cried out in sudden pain. Pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder, he watched blankly as Specs fell to his knees, clawing at the stake.

"Dutchy, why?" he whispered, tears leaking from his eyes. "Why?"

"Her name was Princess," Alex replied. "Princess MacEaver." 

Specs fell forward, and as soon as he hit the floor, turned into a pile of dust. Alex bowed his head, and placed his good hand on his cross. Then, with a violent movement, he tore the cross from its cord and dropped it on the pile.

/I wonder why I don't have a headache./ Usually, by this point, he would be on the floor, writhing in agony. Now, however, he was possessed of unusually clear thought. Suddenly, the words of his mentor came back to him.

__

/Once there is no pain, there will be no time for good-byes./

As he slumped to the ground, he heard a noise and looked up. A girl grinned down at him.

"C'mon, Alex. Let's go home." 

Alex reached out and took Princess' hand.

"ALEX!" Snoddy yelled, running into the men's bathroom. "ALEX! The barmaid said you came in he—oh, God . . ."

Slumped next to a pile of ashes with a cross on top was Alex, head lolling back, one hand lying limply in his lap. Blood trickled sluggishly from the bullet wound in his shoulder. Snoddy clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sob that burst from him, then knelt and gathered Alex's body in his arms. 

He exited the bathroom and the people split, making a clear path for him. The band stopped playing, and the lights stopped flashing. 

The door shut behind Snoddy and his precious cargo, and the lights slowly started up again, soon followed by the band.

__

I'm 

Trapped in this world

Lonely and fading

Heartbroken, waiting

For you to come

We 

Are stuck in this world

That's not meant for me

For me

For . . .

Me . . . 

it is finished.

9:54 PM EST

11th June, AD 2002

****

Notes: My God, it's finally finished. I started this story on March 29 and ended it nearly three months later. Now I know how Vinyl felt when she finished "Two-Bit Juice Joint." It really is like giving up a child. 

****

MASSIVE THANK YOUS TO:

Stage: What would I have done without your great stories and our . . . er . . . interesting conversations for inspiration? *grin* Thanks, hon. You're the best. 

****

Vinyl: Ah, the wonders of sugar rushes at ten o' clock PM . . . I could have never made it over that barrel without it. Don't ever change, babe! I couldn't bear it.

****

My fellow slash broads: Stepherz, Chel, Bittah, Hoshi, 'Cracks, and anyone else I'm forgetting . . . we'll carry the rainbow banner until damn doomsday!

****

Princess: Thank you so much for the FB on every single part! I'm such a dirty little review whore. Now stop reading this and go write more "Vision!"

****

Manda: My ever-so-faithful beta reader and sounding board. This never would have been finished without you, sweetie. Thanks for all your dedication.

****

Blaze: I can thank you for the speediness that these last few parts have been put out with. Without your constant prodding me in the side for more, I never would have gotten past part one. Thanks, darlin'. 

And, of course . . .

****

YOU!: Thanks for reading! 

la fin.

(for real this time)


	7. Deleted Scenes

After a few weeks of not writing "Things That Go Bump," I found I couldn't stay away from it for too long. So, being bored, I decided to write down some of the scenes that I meant to write, but either couldn't fit in or edited until they were completely different. There are four deleted scenes altogether—two from "Blessed Be the Ties that Bind," and two from "Slept So Long." Enjoy!

Things That Go Bump ****

The Deleted Scenes

__

"After all, newlyweds are always late," Jack said, winking.

"Gee, Jack," Stress said innocently, "I seem to remember that we were usually on time when we were newlyweds." She paused. "Oh, I hear the girls. Be right back." She exited promptly.

"Cowboy, you got dissed," Bumlets said, shaking his head. 

*-*-*

__

" 'Scuse me, Mr. Dutchy," one of the girls—Katie?—said, tugging on Alex's sleeve. He looked down.

"Yes?"

"Are you Uncle Snoddy's wife?"

Alex choked on his Diet Coke. "I'm sorry?"

"Are you Uncle Snoddy's wife?" Katie repeated. " 'Cause he has his arm around you like Daddy puts his around Mommy and—"

"Bedtime, Katie," Stress said, picking up her daughter and leaving the room. 

*-*-*

__

Alex looked down at Specs' body. Well. That was it, wasn't it? Princess' death had been avenged. The mission was over. Tomorrow morning he'd get up at seven-thirty, eat a quick breakfast, get changed, drive the forty-five minutes to Things That Go Bump Investigations, and have just a normal day at the office.

A normal life.

Without her.

Alex picked the stake out of the pile of ashes and turned it point towards him, looking at the craftsmanship of it. It was really quite well made, and well worth the money he'd spent on it.

"What's the point?" he whispered, running a finger along the stake. Then, with a swift movement, he shoved it into his own chest.

*-*-*

__

Alex hugged himself, shivering uncontrollably. He was horrified by what he had done, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from it. 

The door opened and Alex slowly looked over, wondering in a sort of detached way what the person was going to think.

"Alex?" Snoddy said, coming in. He took in the scene, then stuck out a hand. "C'mon, Alex. Let's go home."

Alex reached out and took Snoddy's hand. 

Thus is the _true_ end of "Things That Go Bump." Thank you.


End file.
